


Breath

by Misdemeanor1331



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Drabble, F/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25980913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misdemeanor1331/pseuds/Misdemeanor1331
Summary: Draco had always viewed her from afar.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 26
Kudos: 72





	Breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avendell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avendell/gifts).



> This drabble was inspired by Avendell's tragically beautiful work, found here:  
> https://avendell.tumblr.com/post/626719156885241856/dramione-au-what-if-draco-had-saved-hermione

**Breath**

Draco had always viewed her from afar. 

Across a Great Hall, a classroom, a Quidditch Pitch. The looks were innocent, at first. A young boy’s fascination with the forbidden, a treat he was denied and wanted even more for its illicit nature. He’d gone out of his way to taste it, teasing her at every opportunity and savoring her sweet response. For anger was sweet, in its own way: evidence of a feeling that only he could invoke to such a degree. An undeniable truth that triggered an off-kilter pleasure center somewhere deep in his brain. It left him momentarily sated, but never satisfied. Never content.

Only later did he realize the true distance between them. The gulf of prejudice, which gaped like a mouth filled with razor-edged teeth. An expanse of values that hinged on biology. Or rather, the _perception_ of biology.

And that was the real war. What brewed externally felt inconsequential against the conflict festering within. Draco considered himself a logical being; it’s what made him a natural at Potions. Evidence-based decision-making. A clear path between cause and effect. Questions that could be answered by controlled variables and careful measurements and repeated testing.

He’d done the research. Read every text. Studied the color of her blood and the shape of her magic against his own. Too early in his seventh year and too late to make a difference, he discovered the truth.

There was no difference.

How to explain that to her now, when she clutched him close and asked him _why_? When she leaned over his chest and repeated the question like it could stem the flow of his blood onto the sand?

He did not have breath enough to answer her.

He did not have breath at all.

Instead, he looked into her eyes, the distance between them unexpectedly bridged by a length of sharp silver.

And Draco drifted away, content at last.


End file.
